TAOS ROAD TRIP

Sunday: The Calm Before the Storm

By Bob Berwyn, 1-31-08

	A lone skier finds soft snow on Al's Run at Taos Ski Valley. Photo by Bob Berwyn.

Sunday dawns warm and sunny at Taos Ski Valley, but the big storm that pounded Southern California is headed our way. Leigh and I are eager to make some turns before the clouds roll in, so after picking up our tickets we load up and head for the top of the mountain.

Looking down from the chair, the bumps on Al’s Run seem big as ever. But the snow looks soft and I’m anxious to try this classic line on my new school tele boards, a pair of mid-fat G3 Barons that just barely reach up the middle of my forehead. After all, the last time I skied Al’s was about 1985. I was on a pair of double-cambered Rossi 215s with wire-bail bindings that seemed to fail one way or another on every second turn. I beat myself up big-time on this terrain, often cart-wheeling into spectacular face plants to guffaws from the chairlift passengers above. I’m older now, but a bit smarter, too. I have a few more tricks in my bag and I know that I can let the skis do the work for me. That’s the beauty of modern gear and technique.

But before I jump into the steeps on the front side, we tour around the complex mountain to get a feel for the varied terrain, enjoying some warmup runs in Kachina Basin before we hit the long return trail back to the base and slurp a couple portions of green chile at Tenderfoot Katie’s cafeteria.

Leigh is signed up for an afternoon group lesson with the respected TSV ski school and I have plans to join the regular Sunday afternoon tele clinic. Ironically, a technical issue keeps me off the hill for a while and I miss the chance to make some new free-heeling friends, at least in the ski school setting. I’ve popped a screw in the toe piece of my Voile releasables, and after some back and forth with the ski shop guys, I decide to go skiing anyway, with only two tiny hex screws holding the plates together.

“Just like the old days,” I thought to myself. I’ve always enjoyed solo skiing anyway, setting the pace and deciding exactly where to go.

I ski tentatively at first, making some careful hop turns at the top of Al’s, then veering skier’s left to Rhoda’s Glade, where the snow is phenomenally soft and forgiving. The snow is so nice that I forget about my binding woes and start letting the sweet pull of gravity choose the tune and lead the dance, calling me down through the shadows back to the valley floor.

After gaining some confidence on the front side, I head for Chair 2 in West Basin, turning a few laps off the traverse, from Reforma, to Blitz and the West Blitz trees, a patch of forest and fine packed powder that, in my opinion, offers some of the nicest fall lines in North America. And in an all-star snow year like Taos is having this year, you can’t really go wrong anywhere on this spectacular mountain.

Leigh and I meet up again at 3:30 as the storm starts to move in for real. She’s smiling as she carves to a stop near the St. Bernard. The ski school session with Tod has paid off, helping to renew her confidence after two ACL surgeries. The Guinness tastes all the sweeter after an afternoon of hard skiing, and we begin our evening après ski anticipating some fresh powder the next day.

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